


can't plant seeds in a dirty town

by haemophilus



Category: Daredevil (Comics)
Genre: Daredevil (2019) #4, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Murder Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 14:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemophilus/pseuds/haemophilus
Summary: Frank jerks off thinking about how Matt almost murdered him.





	can't plant seeds in a dirty town

**Author's Note:**

> So anyway I wrote this in my office in an unreadable cursive font because it's Friday and my boss is absent for Good Friday. *throws it at fandom* Happy Easter let's feel some shame together.
> 
> Title from Mother Mother's "Dirty Town."

Frank rented a motel that night with a fistful of cash that had dried blood in the creases. The hotel manager didn't even raise an eyebrow when he saw that Frank was only clad in Kevlar above the waist. Figures - this hotel was a well-known haven of scum. He yawned as he handed Frank his room card. Frank gave him a terse nod and walked down the hallway to his room.

The inside of the motel room was as grungy as expected. He took the gun he'd looted off a dead criminal out of his back pocket and rested it on the grimy bedside table alongside his wallet and room key. His shoes and socks were next; Frank grimaced at the feel of the greasy carpet between his toes. It didn't make them any dirtier than they already were, but it was still unpleasant.

He sighed when he looked towards the bathroom. Though he did not want to, he was going to have to brave the shower. Frank peeked into the bathroom - much better than he expected. Run down but clean with complimentary soaps and shampoos. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped under the hot spray of water. Immediately, the bottom of the tub turned to the color of dirty copper. The bar of soap he used required several rinses as it moved over his filthy body. Frank was always surprised by the new nooks and crannies grime seemed to find to wedge into his body. It was at least fifteen minutes until, finally, the shower ran clear. Surprisingly, the shower was as hot as ever. Motel must’ve spent some blood money on big water heaters to attract customers.

It has been ages since Frank had gotten some time alone under a shower that stayed hot. Idly, his hand wandered to his cock, which was half-hard. He fondled its underside curiously. Arousal was typically ignored when he was on a mission - and he was hardly ever _not_ on a mission nowadays. Even then, looking at porn usually made him feel ill when he thought of the women who had been exploited to make it. This left thoughts of his wife (which were sometimes depressing) or former failed love affairs (also depressing). He continued to touch himself gently as he searched around in his brain for anything that might get him going. Celebrities. . .guns. . .the rush of battle. . .

_I’m not a murderer. Because if I were, you’d be dead._

Of course, that, of _all_ things, would be what made Frank’s cock snap to attention. Red - that utter _phony_ \- playing tough. Frank stroked himself harder, thinking of the way Red looked surrounded by flame and destruction. For a moment, Frank had really been sure that Red might kill him after all - and he’d been completely honest that the thought of his foe finally following in his footsteps after so long in denial was delicious. It had been so obvious from the day they’d met that Red was positively _thirsty_ for violence. He probably had killed before and he definitely would do it again. So, Frank was always waiting, always watching, to see when Red’s moral code would finally snap.

Not that Frank _wanted_ to die, but it still was a bit of a shame that he hadn’t by Red’s hands.

Frank leaned up against the porcelain walls of the shower so that he could thrust harder into his hand. He fondled his balls when the tight grip on his dick brought him too close to climax. There was no telling the next time he was going to get to jerk off. He had to make this session last.

He’d never seen Red shirtless before tonight which made it all the more shocking to see the muscle that was hidden under his costume. His gracefulness played tricks on the eye, projecting a lithe vulnerability to onlookers. Frank’s hands couldn’t help but linger a little too long on Red’s pecs and abs after he had finished his emergency procedure. He told himself that it was all for the sake of keeping the wound clean if they were to cooperate in taking down the owl’s scheme together. A flimsy excuse - but surely no one could blame him for appreciating a body so fine-tuned to do the good work.

If he’d just cross that stupid line -

Frank moved his hand back to his cock again, thrusting into it vigorously. The steam of the shower was making him lightheaded; he’d forgotten to turn on the bathroom’s fan. Each thrust now caused a small splash in the water pooling around his ankles. He slicked water off of his face with his other hand and closed his eyes.

He really had been so close to killing Frank tonight. His own death was in the air as soon as Red picked up that gun. His hands flexed as he made up his mind to pull the trigger. When Frank had pictured Red killing him before, he’d always assumed it would be through hand-to-hand combat. Choked. Stabbed in the wrong place with a billy club. Fingers to the wrong pressure point. But one of his _own_ guns - that was something he’d never considered before. Deliberate murder that used Frank’s own strengths against him. He could’ve watched the life leave Frank’s eyes on _purpose_ \- and probably not have felt any remorse about it either. Red could even push the bullet further inside him if he liked to really cause suffering. He hated Frank enough to call him a serial killer and a psychopath which made it seem all the more likely for him to be vindictive. Maybe, to fully appreciate his victory, he’d even taste a little blood on his fingers, or wipe it on Frank’s own cheek.

Frank was never going to go to heaven, but what a way to get to hell that would be.

He came in his own hand, pleasure flowing through every part of his body. His orgasm lasted for ages as though he was twenty-five years younger and more virile than he’d ever been. When he was done, he rinsed his hand, and slumped into the pool of water at the bottom of the tub. A blanket of shame fell onto his shoulders.

Next time, he’d grit his teeth and buy a nudie magazine.

  



End file.
